A Man Named Devin
by used romance
Summary: ONESHOT Fic for The Watcher. Joel meets a stranger in the crappy Vietnamese restautant. "Just how many beers did he have again?" Slash


**Author's Note: **I randomly picked up this DVD at my local entertainment store a while back. And good gosh, I fell in love with it and the small fandom dedicated to it. So, for your pleasure, I introduce my first _Watcher_ fic.

**Warnings: **Angst, slash of the man-love variety

**A Man Named Devin**

After a long day of tumultuous emotions ranging from anger to dread to determination, pills and injections, and those damned agents, Joel Campbell thought there was nothing more comfortable than a hard barstool at a sticky counter in a dumpy Vietnamese restaurant, with a warm plate of cheap, greasy food set in front of him.

There was nothing extravagant about the restaurant. There was no pretense to it, just streaky windows and a standard neon sign shining through the grime, and it was right across the street from his apartment, so he didn't think it was such a bad place to eat, no matter what Griffin-

Shit.

He tried to keep himself from stabbing at the soggy rice in frustration - with himself. Lisa and Griffin, pain and medicine, that was what his life narrowed down to. But he should have been able to turn away from thoughts of the killer, just for a moment, if only to pretend there was something else of importance in this half-life of his.

Problem was, there was _nothing_. Hell, he drifted away from the real world to the semi-reality where all the girls Griffin killed had lived, a plane of sheer film in the sights of the rest of the society but _ignored _until the direst of moments; when Griffin was involved, people finally took notice of the figures they had took for granted.

Now that Griffin was involved, Joel wasn't just another no one. He was more than just a name on a disability check; he was an agent again, a useful, knowledgeable tool to the Bureau, but that didn't change the fact that when the work day was over, he just returned to this state of limbo until the next day.

He knew that his face had settled into a brooding mien (because as soon as he finished his beer, the man behind the counter immediately replaced it without waiting for Joel to verbally express his need for another), so he couldn't understand why, out of all the (five) patrons in the restaurant, the man who walked through the door bothered _him_.

Yeah, okay, so maybe, Joel was closest to the door, but he was _sure_ he looked the least approachable, even for the innocent question, "Hey, do you happen to know the time?"

With a glance at his wristwatch, Joel grunted, "Seven," and went back to his meal.

But the guy didn't leave. He was just starting to sit on the stool at Joel's right, pulling off his leather gloves, when he saw the sharp look Joel gave him.

"May I? I was supposed to meet a friend here and I hate to wait alone."

He wanted to turn the man away. And he easily could have with some rude comment. He could have just said, "No." But he wouldn't have had any satisfaction from that. It would have been inappropriate to project his emotions on an innocent bystander, he reasoned. It had nothing to do with the fact that the man looked just a bit dejected, just a little lonely.

When Joel shrugged and nodded, and the man grinned and seated himself on the stool.

Maybe it was because of that last girl who died, maybe it was just the way those brown eyes conscientiously _did not_ look at Joel as if he knew how much it would irk him, but he felt some kind of need to make conversation with the guy.

"Waiting for someone?"

The man looked quite pleased now that Joel began to show he wasn't going to hurry his meal and get the hell out of there.

"Yeah…" He shrugged and smiled as if at some secret joke. "He's been real busy lately."

"Hm."

When they quickly lapsed into silence again, with only hushed sounds of people eating their meals alone, he realized how out-of-touch he was at this kind of thing.

"Didn't catch your name," he murmured against the lip of the beer bottle.

"What was that?" he asked, leaning just a bit closer to Joel, an eyebrow raised casually. He had such an open, expressive face, his dark hair pulled into a tie at his neck rather than covering his face, and such sincerity was something Joel saw little of in this city.

"I said I didn't catch your name."

"Oh, it's Devin."

"Joel."

Devin held out the hand not holding his slim gloves.

"It's nice to meet you," he said with a warm smile. "Joel."

The FBI agent wouldn't admit that he kind of like the way Devin said his name - not "Special Agent" or "Campbell" - just _Joel_. And it had just a hint of familiarity, though that must certainly have been imagined. He thought he would remember a guy like this.

He cleared his throat, shook away the thought. "So, this friend of yours…"

It's funny how you can talk to someone for hours and not know anything about them by the end of the conversation. After a couple of beers (for Joel - Devin hated to stuff, he had to keep a good figure, he had said with a grin), Joel heard of how Devin just recently moved to Chicago because of this guy he planned to meet with here.

Sure, they didn't sit there for _hours _(two or three was all), but for Joel, it was more unnerving than anything that even though he asked the right types of questions, he couldn't get much out of Devin.

Then again, it wasn't like he offered much in turn.

But by ten, when the restaurant finally started to close up, Joel didn't want to leave right away. For the first time in months, he felt the sluggish blood in him quicken at the presence of another - without the threat of another girl dying looming in his mind.

Of course, he knew he never got what he wanted.

"Well, I'd say you were officially stood up."

"No great loss, I suppose."

"You've been sitting here quite a while for 'no great loss,' haven't you?"

"Maybe… but maybe I haven't been sitting here for him."

And as smooth as when he asked out his first girlfriend, he missed his beer and spilled it all over Devin's nice pants, the kind that showed off a bit much and should have given a hint to Joel in the first place about the type of "friend" he had set out to meet.

But… _fuck_. Just how many beers did he have again?

"Damn it-"

"No, no, it's fine," Devin assured him, though he grimaced while he tried to clean himself off.

"God, just let me- My apartment's nearby if you want."

They both stopped when they realized what Joel had just offered.

"I don't want to impose," Devin started, though he didn't sound like he wanted to head home with his clothes sticky and smelling of alcohol.

"Please, just… come on."

It startled Joel, how easy he was around Devin. His instincts demanded he be more wary, but he felt like Devin was someone he'd met before, and they were just picking up where they left off.

And Devin certainly had no reservations around Joel. As soon at the door shut behind them, the taller man pressed his body to Joel's, fighting his way between the pale pink lips, writhing in the hands which caressed his flesh, groaning at the eager, responsive tongue.

"We shouldn't," he whispered when Devin began to unbutton his jeans and drop to his knees.

Devin looked up at him from between his spread thighs.

"And why is that? I like you and you-" he paused and grinned. "Well you haven't kicked me out yet. Plus, I think you owe me for these jeans. They weren't cheap, you know."

He leaned up to press a kiss to Joel's clothed crotch, and Joel felt the blood rushing rather painfully downward. His jaw relaxed and he let out a breathy moan without realizing it.

That self-assured grin on Devin's face actually seemed to widen, even as he said (as if giving Joel a choice), "I can't force you, of course, if you want to stop," while running a hand up and down Joel's thigh, his thumb rubbing over the hardened cock.

But Joel couldn't just say, "I don't want to stop," or even, "Go ahead." Something in him short-circuited, and he could only grit his teeth and shove his pants, underwear and all, down just enough to force himself into Devin's mouth. The man groaned and relaxed his throat, letting Joel fuck himself in that always-smiling mouth, push himself to the brink of pleasure -

At which point he removed himself from Joel's reach.

"Where are you-?"

"Bedroom, Joel."

He took a slow breath before pulling up his pants again, covering the spit-covered cock so he could lead Devin to his room. He didn't consider the fact that Lisa's eyes stared out from a photo by his bed, because he was too busy watching as Devin stripped off his shirt and form-fitting jeans in easy movements before he lay comfortable across Joel's bed.

"Lube?"

Joel murmured distractedly, "Under the pillow." Of course a man like Devin had nothing to be ashamed of - but Joel hadn't quite expected the long planes of tanned skin.

Because, yeah, _all_ of him was tanned.

And then Devin uncapped the lube and spread it over his fingers and -

"_Fuck_."

Devin grinned, his eyes half-closed in pleasure. "I take it you like the view?"

_Two fingers in… three…_

At the slick sound of Devin pulling his fingers out, Joel wondered when he moved onto the bed, and how had his hands spread Devin's thighs wider without his consent?

As he recovered himself, Devin reached for his jeans on the ground and pulled out a condom.

"_Joel_."

How could he not heed that non-verbal command? He lay on his back beside Devin as the man had gestured. He let those elegant hands divest him of his pants, but when he started to unbutton the white shirt, Joel shook his head, tugging the end down over the large bruise, the painful reminder of all that was wrong with him.

Devin didn't pry; he just shrugged and smoothed the condom over Joel's cock.

"Well, fair's fair. You got my pants dirty, now we get to dirty up your shirt," he said with a little smirk. He straddled Joel's leg's without further ado.

_Yesyesfuckyes_. He didn't realize how much he wanted this until it was literally sitting on his lap. The warmth of another body, the tense muscles and smell of arousal, the anticipation -

"May I?" Devin breathed teasingly, and when Joel groaned and bucked his hips, he grinned and seated himself on the still spit-slick cock, eased by the lube Devin had applied within himself. He sat there for a moment, though nothing in him changed but his breathing. He stared at Joel with those bright eyes, and his lips still moved as if to form a smile or say something clever.

He seemed to decide against it. But then he started to move with that subtle grace of a feline, his back arching when he took Joel in all the way and dragged himself up again.

His hands gripped the slim hips - so unlike a woman's but_ so good_. His nails started to dig into his skin until Devin massaged his grip loose, still moving in that steady rhythm on Joel.

"Hurts…" he murmured, before grabbing Joel's hands and pinning them above his head.

Joel was surprised to hear a growl erupt from his throat. Devin's eyes widened - Joel didn't need to worry that it turned him off, because his cock _jumped_ at the sound and his hips stuttered.

"_Holy shit,"_ he hissed before he started to move in earnest, finally losing that cool humor and sinking deeply in the primal lust which Joel has long lost himself to. Joel tried to escape the tight grasp on his wrists, wanting so badly to touch Devin, bring him off because he was so damn_ close_, but the man just pressed him harder.

So Joel bucked his hips, started to fuck Devin as best as he could from his limited position, and he snarled in approval when Devin pitched forward against him, coming and encouraging his own orgasm when he hissed, "Fuck _yeah,_ Joel."

Joel lay on the bed, tired and sore and absolutely satiated. His eyes shut of their own accord, and his hand reached for Devin. The brunet chuckled and took the hand in his, kissing it gently. He would have loved to lay there, sleep without the aid of any other drugs, but he could never sleep with the feel of come on his skin.

Leaning over to stroke down Devin's face, he admitted, "I gotta take a shower… but feel free to stay the night." Of course the last part slipped from his mouth unbidden, but that smile on Devin's face was worth it.

"Alright… but don't be surprised if I'm asleep when you're done. That was fucking exhausting," he chuckled breathily.

Joel grinned and sat up on the bed, pulling off his shirt while he swung his feet to the floor.

"Wait."

Devin had suddenly lost that humor which weaved through the features of his face, lit his eyes, turned up the corners of his lips. He tugged Joel's hand, bringing him back to the edge of the bed. His other hand lay over the large purple spot which Joel had tried so hard to hide earlier - which he had forgotten about in the post-orgasmic haze.

But Devin looked up at him through his eyelashes. "I've see worse. And I definitely would've fucked you anyway."

Before Joel could stop himself, his mouth was latched onto Devin's again, pressing him to the bed as if he was still young enough to recovery _that_ quickly.

"Go take a shower," Devin laughed when they finally parted.

He grinned despite himself watching Devin get comfortable on the bed, pulling the sheets up to cover himself and bury his face in the crook of his arm, before leaving him to shower.

Only he wasn't asleep when Joel finished his shower.

He was gone.

And the pillows were gone. The sheets were changed. The clothes Joel had on were probably in the same place as the pillows.

There was only one thing on the fresh sheets, a hand-written note and an envelope.

"_That was more fun that I expected. And since you took so long checking your mail last time, I thought I'd hand-deliver this one. Let's do that again soon."_

It was signed, "_Love, David_."


End file.
